


Forever

by k_roth



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_roth/pseuds/k_roth





	Forever

At 82 Queen's St., the sun peeked into the east bedroom from behind the curtains, determined to shine its light for the dark, cool room where a stiff lump was curled on the queen mattress with a blanket pulled over their head.

It turned on its side and the blanket slipped, revealing a mussed dark brown hair, belonging to a late 20s man's soft features. He felt the bed dip, the presence of his significant other ─ dirty blond and chiseled ─ lying back down after their usual morning cup of coffee, and snuggled into his chest to block out the light, and for warmth. "Wha's the time?" Asked the brunet through muffled and murmured speech.

"Skin-thirty," came the reply, the smile apparent through his voice. He tucked stray brown locks behind the other's ear.

The brunet snorted in amusement, reluctantly propping himself up on his elbow, blinking himself awake. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Swinging his legs to the side, he got out of the bed and headed towards the ensuite, throwing five fingers over his shoulder as a sign to give time while stretching.

Turning out to be 15 minutes later, the brunet emerged and started to poke around his drawers for clothes to change into. "Don't you have work?" He finally asked, pulling a maroon sweatshirt over his bare torso.

"Not today."

"More like at all. Tell me you didn't quit." An exasperated sigh with a hint of desperation.

"Why," the blonde drawled, setting down the book he was reading in his lap. "Is it a crime for me to take a vacation to spend time with you?"

The other rolled his eyes. "Bullshit." He finished dressing and started looking around for his watch and belt that were thrown aside last night out of haste. "Mark and Allison are coming over later tonight again," he reminded, changing the topic. "Is everything set?"

"Sure is."

"Even the wine?"

"Don't worry about it, everything will be fine." He wrapped his arms around the other, and they didn't come out of the bedroom for a while. Changing had been useless, the brunet would later muse.

─────

That evening, the room was filled with pleasant company and chatter of work, along with future vacation spots for the holidays ─ Hawaii, Mexico, France, Italy. Even Russia.

It all seemed normal, though not everyone in the room could tell the truth.

Hours passed before yawns started to circle amongst the group. "You two can head on home, there's no need to stay," the brunet said, snuggling back into his partner.

The two guests looked at each other before returning their attention to him, full of pity. "Is that your way of kicking us out?" Allison asked with a sort of forced chuckle then stood up. "I guess it is late, we'll show ourselves out."

As both she and Mark made their way out, they descended into hushed whispers. "He's at it again," she told him. "I thought you said he was getting better?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "He's alone in a big house, with nothing to keep him busy except air. He was bound to start talking again." A low voice hummed through the walls.

"We can't come here every night," she said after a pause, stepping through the door. "We both have jobs and lives. It's clashing in with everything and we don't have time."

"He needs us," Mark reasoned. "He has nobody."

A protest died on her lips and they walked in silence the rest of the way until they reached the local cemetery. Inside lay a grave with wilting flowers showering all over and around it. It was constantly shadowed by a looming oak tree, as if the tree was protecting the tomb.

On the grave was etched in the words;

_Aaron Walters_

_1987-2014_

_Beloved son of Matthew and Lauren Walters. Loving husband of James Hughes._

"It's been years," she whispered through shuddering breaths, turning into a waiting embrace. "When will he give up?"

─────

Back at 82 Queen's St., the brunet continued to sit on the couch, talking to the walls as if there was someone there. He'd play with his watch as he talked, feeling relaxed through still incredibly tense. At midnight, he'd finally drag himself off to bed where he'd sleep peacefully until dawn and it would start all over, illusioned that his partner was still alive.

Though deep, deep down, buried inside and endless void, he knew that his partner was gone. And just the thought of that broke a little more inside him, creating more desire and stronger fake memories. They clouded the real ones, the real moments shared between the two of the first time they met, their wedding, picnics, dates and even memorable, loving moments on the same mattress the living half slept on now. He even cherished their fights because through his inner madness, he knew he'd never hear his lover's voice ever again. No more soft whispers, no more passionate filled shouts.

He only wished that the other half of him had never left, had never gone to walk the dog to the park. Because maybe, he would have never released the dog from her leash and maybe, he would have never tightened it around the oak tree or his own neck. And maybe, the blond would still be here to murmur a goodnight in his lover's ear, to promise him that they'd always be together.

Forever.


End file.
